


The Good Boy

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Breathplay, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Name-Calling, Pegging, Top Rowena MacLeod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 16:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19380463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Rowena knows what Sam needs.And she makes him beg for it.





	The Good Boy

“On your knees, Sam, there’s a dear.”

He obeys, body reacting without any conscious effort, presenting for her as if her words have power.

They do, but it’s not that kind of power she’s using on him here.

He wants…. He wants to be good for her, to please her, and he trembles when her fingers stroke delicately down his spine.

“Such a pretty boy,” she croons. “And so needy, so desperate. Do you want it, Sam?”

He clenches his fists against the surge of excitement that threatens to rob away his feeble control. She’s not yet given him permission to look at her, but he knows what her question means.

“Yes, mistress, I...please.”

“Ask me, then, Samuel. Ask for what you need.”

But words…. They’re just tangled up in his head, no hope of getting them to form something cohesive by the time they reach his mouth.

“Samuel.” 

Her tone’s heavier, now, and she buries her fingers in his hair, tugging his head back.

“I’m sorry,” he pants. It hurts, but not as bad as the fear that he won’t get what he needs, that she’ll leave him like this, hard and pleading and so strung out that he’ll fall apart.

“I don’t want your apologies, boy,” she says. “I want your answer. I want you to ask for what you need like a good boy. Don’t disappoint me.”

She tugs harder, pain sharp as it ripples through his skull.

“Fuck me,” he pants out. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“How? Tell me how, Samuel.”

“Your...your cock. I want it. I want you to pin me down and shove it in me, and I want you to just take me. I want to feel it. I want you to make me beg for every single second. I want you to make me beg you to be allowed to come.”

“And do you want it to hurt, Samuel?”

Want? No. Need, yes, fuck, he needs it more than he needs air right then, and he garbles out just how bad.

She releases his hair, and his reward is a single sweet kiss to soothe the pain.

“I’m proud of you, Samuel. My good, clever boy. Now I want you to bury your face in the pillow. And stay there until I tell you otherwise.”

He doesn’t dare hesitate; her punishments stay with him for days, and he knows if he earns one now it’ll be delivered in place of what he’s tried so hard to get.

He takes a breath, lets it out, gulps in another, feels his lungs swell, and then does as she asked.

The pillow is hot and dark against him, blocking out the light, and the air.

When she grabs his hips a moment later, holds him steady with a grip that will leave bruises bone deep, he’s sure, and then fucks into him, one long deep push, it takes everything he’s got not to lose the oxygen he sucked into his lungs.

She is not kind.

It’s like being lanced open, her pace punishing, and he can hear her cries as she takes her pleasure, driven towards the edge by his predicament.

“So willing,” she pants. “To be my little whore, so desperate for my cock, to have me split you open. What would your brother think, eh? Seeing you arse up and being plundered? What would he think if he knew you begged for it, and you’d be moaning in pleasure like a slut right now if you could just breathe?”

His lungs are on fire. His hands are clawing into the mattress with desperation, fighting the urge to even turn his head just enough to get some air.

But she'll know and, even if she doesn’t, he will.

He can breathe when she says.

When she comes, he knows, feels the swell of her breasts as she drapes herself across his back.

Her weight is negligible, usually, but like this...his muscles trembling, his pulse thundering, his head starting to feel like it’s going to explode, it just pushes his face further into the pillow and his body starts to jerk against his will, the last of the air in his lungs almost used up.

“There, Sam, come, come for me and you can breathe.”

And he does. Like her words were all his body was waiting on, his dick spasms, and he can feel something hot and sticky spraying over both him and the mattress beneath him.

And then she’s pulling him upright, stronger than she should be, and he sucks in air with a horrid, painful _whoop_.

Rowena holds him against her, the strap on jutting painfully against his thighs, but nothing compared to how much the rest of him hurts.

“Easy, Samuel, easy, you’re alright now.”

She turns him carefully to lie on his back, undoes the harness around her waist and thighs, and drops it to the floor.

Sam ends up with his head pillowed on her chest, body settling, and he doesn’t object when she guides one of his hands to cup her breast, murmuring happily as he strokes its curve.

“Such a good boy, Samuel,” she tells him. “My very good boy.”


End file.
